The Next Level
by Yuriandviktoronice
Summary: Yuuri and Viktor's lives post season 1.
1. Home

"Yuuri is moving to Russia with me," the words rolled off Viktor's tongue and were closely chased by a grin that spread ear to ear. "He and I have already begun apartment hunting!"

The words did not shock Yuri Plisetsky, but they did cause a shudder to shake through his body. It wasn't that the thought of having to endure the constant canoodling between the two men made his stomach churn, but… Yeah, that was exactly it. He could only picture an endless stream of practices in which they slacked off in favor of allowing the entire rink to fall victim to their public displays of affection. A lingering kiss here, a tender face stroke there, a lengthy embrace in between. No one would want to watch those things occur, but with those love birds around it would be damn near unavoidable.

"Speaking of apartment hunting…" Yuuri smiled shyly, "We were wondering if you'd like to stay with us?"

The silver medalist stood next to his fiancé, who had an arm lazily draped around his hip, pulling their bodies snuggly together. While Yuri could not deny they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, it still annoyed him that they completely disregarded personal space when near one another. Was it truly possible to be so grossly infatuated with another human that anytime you resided in the same room you could not manage to refrain from having physical contact at some point?

"It will be a blast Yurio," Viktor piped in. "Like a constant slumber party!"

Yuri wanted to shout no at them, call them insane for even allowing the thought to cross their minds. But he didn't. Instead he kept his expression blank, or as blank as his usual scowl could be considered. It would, in all honesty, be a rather brilliant idea. Three of the world's top skaters residing in one home as they prepared for the Grand Prix Finals together. They would all be on the same schedule, same diet, all be working their asses off to reach the same goal.

"Okay," Yuri breathed out harshly, brushing several strands of hair out of his eyes. "But if I hear you being gross with one another at any point, you will return the next day to have found the locks on the door changed."

Viktor laughed, Yuuri blushed, but it was understood that the youngest boy had accepted their invitation.

* * *

Viktor placed a delicate kiss on the corner of Yuuri's mouth, feeling his heart swell with affection as the younger man's lips curve into a smile. They were laid lazily in bed, enjoying the first day in their new home. Oddly, the sun was shining in Russia today, casting a light glow across the spacious room they were sharing. At the foot of the bed, Maccachin was curled up, his tail thumping against Yuuri's feet every few seconds.

"Good morning, love." Viktor placed a second kiss, this time on Yuuri's jawline. Slowly he began to pepper them across his entire face, each peck as light as a feather.

Yuuri started to mutter something in response, but the words were drowned out by Viktor's lips on his own. Instantly it felt as if every nerve in his body was alive, shooting fireworks through his blood stream, the sparks crackling against his skin. He had lost count of how many kisses they've shared with one another over the months. He found it amazing how every time their lips met it still felt as spectacular as the first.

The younger man snaked a hand up to rake through the others hair. The silver locks still enticed him, despite the fact that they were thinning. It felt as if he was running his fingers through silk, smooth and glossy and softer than any man's hair had the right to be.

Viktor pulled Yuuri's body closer against his, bringing their chests flush together. He rubbed circles at the small of his back with one hand, using the other to cup the back of his neck. They were both warm, heat radiating underneath the thick blanket that Yuuri's mother had insisted they take with them to Russia. She had been sure the cold weather would take a toll on her son, although she never acknowledged that he spent hours in an ice rink every day and still remained intact. None the less they accepted the blanket anyway, as it would be a blessing in the winter. However, the native Russian was worried it would cause them to suffocate during the following months. He made a mental note to discuss picking up a lighter blanket next time they went out.

Viktor pulled away slowly, meeting his lover's glossy brown eyes, which were unabashedly filled with fondness and admiration for him. He laid his face into the crook of Yuuri's neck, breathing in his scent. He muttered an 'I love you' against Yuuri's skin, which was met with a quiet moan.

Viktor opened his mouth, intending to proclaim his love once again, however any words he could have possible said were cut off by a sharp intake of breath as he felt Yuuri slide his hand into the waistband of his pants. He felt his fiancée's fingers curl around him, giving a gentle tug. Instinctively he thrusted his hips into the touch, unable to stop himself.

As if they were in a trance, the two didn't hear the loud banging at the door, but the screaming that accompanied it seconds after got their attention.

"There is only one thing you two could possibly be up to in there this late in the day, and I know it's not sleeping!" Yuri's voice was sharp, causing the pair to break away as if they'd been caught committing a crime. "I fucking made breakfast and if you aren't out here soon to eat, I'll toss both your plates out the window."

Yuuri's eyes widened and he quickly stopped his previous actions to instead roll out of bed and hunt around for a shirt.

"Yeah, yeah, Yurio. We'll be out in a second." Viktor responded. He continued to lay in bed though, watching the muscles of Yuuri's back as he moved around the room. The sunlight was illuminating the skaters physique, giving Viktor a swift reminder of just how beautiful the man he was set to share a lifetime with was. He wanted to demand he come back to bed and finish what he had started, but he knew the Yuuri he had fell in love with was going to do everything but that.

"Get dressed, Viktor. Yuri is waiting for us." He slipped a yellow shirt, one that belonged to Viktor, over his head. It was just slightly too large, loose enough for the collar to slip to one side, exposing his neckline. It also smelled of Viktor. Yuuri smiled, deciding that this shirt no longer belonged to the Russian, but was going to join his wardrobe instead.

"Why get dressed when I could lay here all day and admire how gorgeous you are?" Viktor sat up and curved a finger towards himself, gesturing for Yuuri to come to him.

He blushed at the compliment, then huffed at the request, but complied, crawling across the bed to Viktor. He straddled the older man, wrapping both arms loosely around his neck. They stared into one another's eyes for several moments, the room so quiet that all either could hear was their heartbeats.

Viktor had already spent countless nights and days memorizing the different aspects of Yuuri's face. The gentle slope of his nose, the delicate curvature of his lips, the way his cheeks flushed a light pink anytime he was embarrassed or riled up. It was a face Viktor wanted to cradle in his hands for hours, a face he wanted to kiss and stroke always.

"I can't wait to marry you," Yuuri broke the silence. "I want to always wake up like we did today, maybe without the Yurio part though. I want to eventually buy a home, a big home where we can go on walks and Maccachin can run around. I want to adopt kids, and maybe start a garden together. I want to grow so old that we can't even skate, so old that the last thing on earth that brings us joy is simply us."

Yuuri leaned down slightly, and they met one another in a deep kiss, open mouths crashing together. Yuuri softly bit Viktor's bottom lip, and he began to feel breathless, as if the oxygen in the room had decided to leave in favor of giving them privacy. Yuuri knew for certain that the world could explode at any moment, and he wouldn't even be bothered by it as long as he was by Viktor's side when it happened.

"Yu-Yurio is waiting for us." He mutters, rolling to the side, off his fiancé. "We just got the new dishes, I don't want him to shatter them because we took too long."


	2. Flowers

As he opened the front door, Yuri Plisetsky could smell nothing but flowers. The sweet smell was wafting through the apartment he shared with his two rink mates, and something told him the scent was connected back to them. Not that the floral aroma bothered him, it was just surprising, as the place typically smelt of Viktor's dog or whatever food had been cooked last. Usually a mixture a both, if he was to be honest.

Upon entering the kitchen, he saw several dozen vases covering the table, all filled to the brim with a variety of beautiful plants. The most common he saw were roses, but within the mix laid daisies with petals as white as snow, baby breath so light it appeared to be floating, vibrant tulips, and his favorite, peonies. Some were set by themselves, while others were compiled in gorgeous arrangements.

"Yurio! You're home!" Viktor suddenly appeared in the room, almost as if he had been waiting for Yuri to enter so he could pop out. He stood beside the mass of flora, his hair lightly damp and swept to the side in his usual style. He bore a vibrant smile as he casually gestured towards the actual garden that lined their only dining space.

"Don't call me that stupid name!" Yuri hissed. He wanted to ask why every flower known to mankind was in front of him, but he knew that was exactly what Viktor wanted, so he kept his mouth shut. The older Russian loved to surprise people, and the only way Yuri knew how to rebel against that was to act as unaffected by his antics as possible.

"Yuuri should be back soon, he went out to get us dinner. I hope you don't mind eating with us in a different room, as this one is clearly occupied." Viktor lent down, taking an exaggerated sniff. "Can't say I mind though. It smells like heaven in here."

"Hadn't noticed."

"We, well more so I, had them shipped in from across the globe." Victor plucked a French hydrangea and handed it to Yuri. "Do you like these? They remind me of Yuuri."

"The only thing he reminds me of is a piggy." Yuri announced, dropping the flower back into the mass it had been pulled from.

"They are for our wedding. I want us to pick an arrangement together, you can help if you'd like."

Yuri groaned, his body deflating at mention of the wedding. It was all he'd heard about for months. If it wasn't the two grooms to be yammering on about how excited they were to get hitched, it was the press bombarding him with the dumbest shit. Every time he encountered the media endless questions concerning the impending marriage of his rink mates were barreled his way. They all wanted to know where it was happening, who was invited, would skating be incorporated into the ceremony, who was designing the tuxes, where the two men would reside after their marriage was made official.

Of course, he knew the answers to practically none of these questions, and he had absolutely no remorse when he would tell the leaching press just that. If they were going to bombard him every time he went out, he would at least like the harassment to pertain to his skating career.

"I'll be in my room," was Yuri's response. "Let me know when the food gets here."

* * *

Viktor was known for his theatrics, and he was unapologetically a man of pure impulse. Of course, this was one of the many things that had kept Yuuri a fan of his for so long, and even this deep into their relationship, his surprises often filled Yuuri with joy.

So, when he returned home from retrieving dinner to find his fiancé striking a pose in front of what must have been a million flowers, all he could bring himself to do was smile brightly.

"What is this?" His tone was laced with fondness as he set their food down on an empty counter space. He was unsure on what the answer would be, but he hoped that it was something nice and not an elaborate apology. However, as far as apologies go, this would be a rather nice one.

Viktor glided towards where he stood in the kitchen, stopping once there was no space between their bodies. The older man brought a hand up to rest gently against his cheek, stroking his thumb against the smooth skin. Yuuri could feel Viktor's heartbeat against his own, which was racing at the moment.

"They're flowers, I want us to choose our favorites for the wedding," he finished his sentence by placing a kiss on Yuuri's temple and then entwining their fingers together, pulling him towards the crowded table. "I had our friends send their favorites, and then I had some well-known florists create arrangements. I wanted our options to be limitless, you deserve only the best."

Yuuri stopped, bringing them both to a halt. He wrapped an arm around Viktor's neck, pulling him down to meet in a kiss. He smiled against the others lips, his heart full from the kind gesture. It seemed that all he ever felt anymore was love. Never had he been this happy and content, this showered with affection on a daily basis. Yuuri pulled away momentarily then placed a peck on the taller skater's lips. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Viktor's neck, not making any move to pull away.

If it had been up to Yuuri, they would have remained locked in the embrace for hours, without a notice to the world going on around them, but the vague Italian scent Viktor caught a whiff of reminded him of the moody teenager locked away in his bedroom, awaiting dinner to be brought to him.

"Yurio! The food has arrived!" He shouted, turning towards the forgotten paper bag full of pasta. He rummaged around, pulling out three containers, and a bag stuffed with breadsticks.

A door slammed open, and out stomped Yuri with his cat tucked under one arm, Maccachin scurrying behind him at his heels.

"My name is Yuri and tell your dumb dog that I don't want him following me around," the blond used his free hand to grab one of the containers and a fork. "And you need to hurry up and pick your flowers, the smell is giving me a headache. I think the peonies would be nice or the blue ones Viktor liked, but I'm sure you guys want some elaborate overdone arrangement."

"I thought you didn't want to help us pick flowers?" Viktor teased, biting into one of the breadsticks. He shot his fiancé a smile, who was in the midst of examining all the plants.

"I don't. But if my input will get them out of here faster, then I suppose I could give you some of my opinions." Yuri's cat began to squirm in his hold, so he let it drop to the ground. As its feet hit the floor it let out a loud meow and darted towards his owner's bedroom, not wishing to stick around, especially with Maccachin padding about the kitchen.

"Blue ones Viktor liked?" Yuuri asked, eyes roaming the bunch.

"The blue French hydrangeas," Viktor picked one out of a vase and handed it to Yuuri, "they're what I imagine you'd be like as a flower."

Yuuri's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as he admired the flower in his hands. He turned the stem around in his palms delicately, eyeing all its aspects. He liked the broad, open bloom, as well as its sweet scent, but something about this one didn't feel right.

"It's too much like me…" He muttered, scoping out the other options. He pried through the various bouquets, pulling several out and examining them. He eventually worked his way back around to the same spot Viktor had plucked the blue one. In an almost identical fashion laid a set of flowers, only these were a vibrant pink.

"This one, I think it would work?" He held it up next to Viktor's face, almost taken aback by how alike the flower seemed to be in comparison to his lover. "It's absolutely stunning."

Viktor bit his bottom lip, uncertain with Yuuri's choice. It was a nice flower, he had to admit, but similar to what Yuuri had said seconds ago, it reflected himself too much. When he looked at the flower all he saw was Viktor Nikiforov, not the figure skater and coach who had fell in love with one another while the entire world had watched on with wide eyes.

"We need a flower that represents our love, not simply a flower that represents us." Viktor scratched his head, skimming the display once again. Beside him he heard Yuuri hum in response.

"You are both idiots," Yuri set down his food, practically storming towards them. "If the blue flower reminds you of Yuuri," he said looking at Viktor, "and the pink one reminds you of Viktor," he glanced towards Yuuri, "then fucking pick the purple one!"

Both men awed in agreement, hands shooting out towards the purple Hydrangeas. They each brought the flower close to their faces and smiled, approving of Yuri's choice.

"I knew you'd be the one to pick!" Viktor beamed, tossing the flower in Yuri's direction. He caught it by the stem and rolled his eyes.

"I pointed out the obvious for you two. I did not pick the flower."

But neither heard his words, as they were lost in celebratory kiss.

* * *

A/N: Ah, so I'm not really for sure where this story is going, but I know i want to keep adding to it. I mostly plan on writing about their lives after season 1, and eventually I plan to add actual skating and things into it. This is mostly going to be fluff, because i hate angst, so don't expect anything like that lol. I'll probably have more things concerning their wedding in here, and probably a wedding at some point. So, thanks for reading and please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


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